Oh God, it hurt so much worse than I’d thought it would.
The moment I screamed, his body went rigid behind me.
He didn’t move at first—just stood there frozen, his breath catching in his throat like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. I remained bent forward, trying not to sob.
Then, slowly—so slowly I nearly collapsed from the tension—he pulled out.
The pain lessened immediately, but a deep ache remained. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the sting in my chest would fade faster than the one between my legs.
I didn’t dare turn around.
He cursed under his breath, then shifted behind me. His hand brushed my hip gently. “Fuck,” he murmured. “You’re bleeding.”
My stomach twisted.
He stepped back, letting the water spray over us, and I turned just enough to glance over my shoulder. He looked down at the thin streaks of red on his cock, like he couldn’t believe it.
He looked up at me, his brows pulled together tight. “Is it…is it that time of the month?”
I blinked, then bit my lip to keep it from trembling and shook my head.
His entire expression changed, as if I’d slapped him and he hadn’t seen it coming.
The blood drained from his face. “Wait,” he said, stepping toward me and grabbing my arm to turn me around. “You’re telling me—” He cupped my cheeks and tilted my face up to his.
His eyes searched mine almost frantically. “You’re a virgin?”
I couldn’t speak. I was so embarrassed.
I just nodded, and this time the tears wouldn’t stop. They rolled in hot rivulets down my cheeks, mixing with the water from the shower. His thumb caught one and swiped it away like he didn’t know what else to do.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Lyla…”
The way he said my name shattered something in me.
Then he did the last thing I’d expected.
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead—tender, soft, reverent. His arms came around me, and he pulled me against his chest. My cheek rested over his pounding heart.
We just stood there like that for a long time, swaying slightly, steam curling around us as the water thrummed steadily down on us.
His fingers glided up and down my spine—not in a sexual way but in a soothing rhythm, one that made it harder to hold myself together.
The man who’d just threatened to punish me had melted. And suddenly I wasn’t sure which version of him scared me more—the brutal enforcer, or the man who felt sorry for me.
Because I could already feel it; the tension between us, the hunger…it was gone.
And in its place was something worse.
Pity.
His silence was louder than the water pounding against us.
My almost-lover pulled away and held me by my shoulders at arm’s length, glaring at me as if I’d grown two heads. I wrapped my arms around my body as though I could shield myself from the burn of his stare, as if it could protect me from the regret I saw flickering through his expression.
His breathing was ragged, and his jaw was clenched tight.
I didn’t know what to say. “It’s not a big deal. Most girls lose their virginity in high school. Who cares?”
